


move from the darkness

by whatdoiknowx



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoiknowx/pseuds/whatdoiknowx
Summary: dan isn't really okay, and neither is phil(since today is World Mental Health Day, I was inspired tonight from all the posts to write a fic about Dan's journey to getting help, from Phil's perspective)





	move from the darkness

Phil frowned down at his phone at the single letter, _k_ , in response to his last text message. He wouldn't be so bothered by it if that wasn't basically all Dan had been replying with in the past week. He'd declined both of Phil's suggestions for Skype calls this week as well, and Phil was beginning to think he should stop trying.

Dan clearly wasn't into him - well, that was already obvious, seeing as Dan had a girlfriend. 

Or was it so obvious? Phil had been so sure there was something there, an exciting spark yet comfortable familiarity that wasn't there with any of his other mates. 

But even if Phil was right, even if Dan - hilarious, self-deprecating yet sweet, interesting, insanely hot Dan - was into him at one point, he was clearly bored now. Phil should just stop texting him, and he was idiot to keep trying.

Another day of silence remained, Phil keeping his resolve to not make a fool of himself, but then Dan texted back - more than one word, dozens of words actually, and just like that, Phil's resolve disappeared. He had just been overthinking everything, making a big deal out of nothing, like he did far too often.

By the time they were back on Skype, Phil laughing at some witty comment Dan had just made, that strange week of radio silence was forgotten.

\----

Dan hadn't left Phil's room since he'd tearily crawled into his bed last night. It was the next evening now, and Phil was getting a bit concerned.

Okay, he was getting a lot concerned. He didn't want to admit that to himself, didn't want to admit that his chest felt heavy and his pulse raced as he sat on the living room sofa, half-heartedly munching on old crisps for dinner. 

Phil had seen a lot of Dan in the couple of years they'd known each other. Not just physically speaking, but metaphorically speaking as well. He'd seen Dan laugh until his stomach ached, seen Dan so wasted he could barely walk, seen Dan bawl his eyes out at a sad movie, seen Dan ecstatically celebrate victory over a difficult video game win, seen Dan throw his head back in pleasure as their bodies tangled together. He'd also seen Dan break down, listened as Dan slowly opened up about some of the not-so-great parts of his life, the parts that left Dan sad and a bit broken. 

Phil had taken that all in stride, because he also had some not-so-great parts, and that was normal. It was good that they shared these things. Phil didn't quite understand everything Dan talked about - a mix of stuttered words, hushed whispers, casual conversations, easily flowing monologues - but he listened, because that's what a good friend, a good boyfriend, does. It was confusing sometimes, hard to comprehend, because Phil had a great childhood and he treasured his family, but he still listened and sympathized as best he could.

So, Phil had seen a lot of Dan, and he'd thought he'd seen everything there was to see by now.

He'd never seen this. He'd never seen the cold, blank stare Dan had given him when Phil had checked on him earlier. He'd never seen the frighteningly vacant eyes. He's never seen what appeared to be an almost lifeless lump in his bed where his boyfriend once lay. 

If Phil was being honest with himself, he was scared. He pushed the bag of crisps away, trying to rationalize with himself. It was just because of uni. Dan was having a hard time with uni, Phil knew that. He'd cried to Phil about it a few times already, and Phil had tried to help, tried to offer studying advice and encouragements about the future but none of it seemed to really work. 

Phil ran a hand through his fringe. Dan just needed to get through the next few years, get his degree and move on from the university part of his life. Everything would be better after that.

When Phil crawled into bed next to Dan that night, he still wouldn't look at him. That was okay. Phil cuddled him tight, determinedly not letting the tears stinging his eyes slip out. It would be okay.

By the next evening, it was okay. Dan was basically back to his old self, playing video games on the sofa with Phil. Everything was fine, like Phil knew it would be. Dan was just sad about uni yesterday, which was normal. People got sad sometimes, Phil got sad sometimes, but they always got over it.

\----

Phil's body wracked with sobs. He curled closer into himself, wrapping the blanket tighter around his body on the sofa.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to do at all anymore. He wanted to call his mum, but that felt like a weird betrayal of trust. What would he even say anyway?

He didn't know how to explain he was terrified and angry and lonely and worried and sad because Dan was out somewhere wandering the streets of London and he hadn't even bothered to take his bloody phone with him.

Talking to someone, to his mum or one of his friends, would probably be a good thing. It had been too many years of this, too many instances of vaguely referring to the dark times without actually telling anyone anything. 

There'd been too many days like this one, weeks like this one, and each time Phil told himself it would get better. It had to get better, because he couldn't keep watching Dan go through this. _Phil_ couldn't keep going through this.

Dan had spent all day in bed again, as he had done for three days straight. One of the only sentences he'd spoken to Phil today, when Phil had finally tried to coax him out of bed for dinner, was a mumbled "I can't - I just can't. I can't deal." And then he had been gone not long after, just telling Phil that he was "going out".

It had been an hour, and frankly, Phil was worried sick. Dan wouldn't - he wouldn't _do_ anything, Phil was sure of it. In the darkest of times, Phil hadn't let his mind go there. There was a sinking feeling in his gut though, and as another rush of tears shed down his face, Phil felt horribly ill.

He was still crying when Dan got home. Familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders, but it was a phantom version of those arms. Phil leaned into the touch still, because it was all he had right now.

"I'm sorry," Dan whispered against his hair, and Phil just cried more.

Phil's head was pounding by the time they got into bed, and it was still hurting when he awoke the next morning. 

They talked about it in the afternoon, like they often talk about it after. Feelings were shared, old and new fears were spoken of, assurances were made, and things were better by the end of the conversation.

It didn't feel like enough this time. Three years on, and things didn't feel like they were changing for the better. They almost felt worse.

\----

Phil groaned, rolling over for the tenth time. All he could hear was the sound of Dan walking in circles in the next bedroom.

He had done this for as long as they'd lived together. Not all the time, but often enough, often occurring in patches of time where it would get more and then less frequent.

Phil groaned again. He was so fucking tired. 

"Dan!" he yelled out, flopping over onto his back. "Go the fuck to bed!" He didn't care if it was his bed or Dan's bed, just as long as Dan stopped making so much noise and let him sleep in peace.

The pacing stopped, and Phil could hear the creaking of Dan's bed as he settled onto it. _Thank god._

Phil rolled back over, and he was finally drifting off to sleep when the pacing started again.

"Fuck's sake," Phil grumbled, stumbling out of bed. He checked his alarm clock on his way out of the room. 4:13 am. Jesus.

Dan was still walking around his room in circles when Phil opened his door. 

"What?"

"Seriously, Dan?" Phil rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's the middle of the night. Go to bed. I don't care if you sleep, just stop keeping the rest of us from sleeping." He yawned, rubbing his hands over his bloodshot eyes.

"I'm not even being loud." Dan's arms were hugging his chest defensively, but his voice was carefully careless.

"I'm not doing this right now." 

They'd had this conversation a million times. Phil hadn't understood the late night pacing fully at first, but he did now. He knew the voices in Dan's head got too much for him, especially in the piercing quiet of the night, and he was sympathetic, he really was. He tried to help. He tried to offer solutions. 

Right now, he just wanted to sleep and deal with things in the morning.

"Okay, good. Then leave me alone."

"You sound like a child." Phil yawned again. "Please just go to bed." He stepped closer to Dan, to maybe offer some physical reassurance, but Dan petulantly stepped farther away. Phil sighed. "Night, Dan."

The pacing started up again by the time Phil got back to his bed. Thankfully, it didn't last for too much longer after that.

\----

Dan was having another one of his depressive episodes.

Phil was finally able to call it that. It had taken him a long time to put a name to the bad times, longer for him to accept than even Dan himself.

Dan wasn't officially diagnosed, at least not recently. He'd seen doctors in the past, and that's what they had used then. Depression.

Phil wasn't stupid. He knew what depression was, and he had known for years that that's what Dan had. He just hadn't always wanted to admit that to himself. 

For a long time, he felt like he'd failed. He must not be good enough, a good enough boyfriend - a good enough friend really, when it came down to it - if someone so close to him, someone he cared about so much, could still be depressed. 

He knew better now, of course. He'd done his research, spoken to Dan an infinite number of times, even reached out to his mum by now. He knew this wasn't his fault, that it wasn't Dan's fault either.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

The episode lasted nearly two weeks this time; it felt like the episodes were getting longer and more frequent lately, and maybe they were, or maybe Phil was just getting tired. Phil was well versed now, knew how to be there for Dan in the ways that worked for both of them, in the ways they'd discussed numerous times. It still didn't feel great, but he felt a bit less helpless than he used to. 

Phil still felt a dozen different emotions, still felt them more and more as the days dragged on. It was hard, and he wasn't sure if this would ever not be hard. It felt like a weird mix of crushing emotions, yet emotionless routine at the same time. Phil was prepared for most everything during the depressive episodes.

He wasn't prepared for Dan to walk into Phil's bedroom that night, sobbing uncontrollably. He crawled under the duvet and immediately attached himself to Phil.

Phil placed the book he was reading on the nightstand and wrapped his arms around Dan. This was good, he told himself. Emotions from Dan were good, meant he was coming out of the depression.

He hadn't seen quite this much emotion from Dan after an episode though. 

Phil held Dan tight as the tears continued to flow. When the last of the sobs subsided, Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's forehead and then pulled back slightly.

Dan was a mess. His cheeks were tear-streaked, hair disgustingly greasy, face blotchy and red. His nose was dripping, and Phil could feel snot along the collar of his own shirt. 

Dan wiped at his nose with his arm, then ran his fingers through his hair - curly, since he hadn't bothered to straighten it in days having not been outside at all. 

"Babe," Phil said quietly, running his hand soothingly up and down Dan's side.

"I think I need help," Dan said back.

Phil nodded. This wasn't a new conversation. They'd both brought up the prospect before. Phil wanted him to see someone, someone who could help Dan be as happy as he deserved to be, to not be burdened by this horrible _thing_ that controlled his life far too often. Dan wanted to see someone too, but he was scared, Phil knew. 

"I think you do, too." 

"I'm sorry for being so shit all the time." Another tear slid down Dan's cheek.

"Babe," Phil said again. He sighed. "It's not your fault."

Dan started to speak, but then choked back another sob. He tried again. "I know. I just - I hate feeling this way. I hate what it does to you." His voice got louder, a bit angrier. "I hate that I'm controlled by this shit. It's so fucked up."

"I know."

"I want to get better." More tears. "I really do, Phil. I know I don't try and I'm fucked up, but I really want to get better."

"Stop saying you're fucked up." Phil felt tears streaming down his own face. "You're not."

Dan shook his head.

"You know you're not, Dan. You're so incredible. You just need to get help." Phil took Dan's hand, squeezing it into his own. "I really think you need to this time."

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, but he nodded. 

"We can't keep living like this. You can't keep living like this." Phil's lip trembled. "We're gonna get you better, I promise."

Tears spilled out of Dan's closed eyes. He reached his arms out and pulled Phil close again, squeezing tight around his back.

"Love you so much," Phil whispered. 

\----

This time, Phil didn't let empty promises go unfulfilled. The next day, he sat with Dan as they researched local therapists, made lists of potential offices to ring. 

He sat with Dan while Dan actually made those phone calls, the farthest step they'd gotten to in all these years.

He sat with Dan in the waiting room of his first appointment, both filled with excitement and nerves. Nothing was going to get better straight away, but they were on the right path.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I Wanna Get Better" by Bleachers
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr post [ here ](https://onedirectionticketss1.tumblr.com/post/178933469653/title-move-from-the-darkness-word-count-24k)


End file.
